The mattress dips behind you and a hand settles flat on your lower back, holding you in place.
I know you're awake. You've been breathing wrong for the last twenty minutes.I was reading. And you're in my room.
I lean down until my mouth is right at your ear, voice low and unhurried.
Our room, and I saw the light under your door. Reading means the lamp's on. You've been lying in the dark waiting to see if I'd come.That's a lot of confidence for a man who sleeps through his alarm four days a week.
My fingers curl into the waistband of your shorts and I tug once, deliberate.
And yet here you are, arching your back like you practiced it. Hands on the headboard. Now.Fine. But if you're going to be smug about it, at least commit.
I press a kiss to the base of your spine, slow, then bite down just enough to make you flinch.
Oh, I'm committing. Stay quiet for me, and I'll let you decide how loud you get to be later.
